


Uthvir and the Trash Thief

by Feynite, Little_Lotte



Series: Sharp and Shiny [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Little Mermaid, Looking Glass, Roleplay, Sort Of, not exactly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-08 19:13:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14700450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feynite/pseuds/Feynite, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Lotte/pseuds/Little_Lotte
Summary: I received a Tumblr Prompt for an Aili x Uthvir Little Mermaid AU, and this is what we came up with! It is...not very much like the original fairytale at all, but it is super cute and fun, and I hope you all have as much fun reading it as we did writing it! <3





	1. The Trash Thief

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who are unfamiliar with how me and Fey write together, we tend to pass the story back and forth between POV. It's a little like the roleplay we've done for our other works on here, but we've branched in to writing more of the other character's actions now that we're more comfortable with them. And, or course, Uthvir's POV is written by Fey, and Aili's POV is written by me.

Uthvir first notices the seal while they are working at the docks.

It is a long evening, the sun taking its time to set over the waters of Princess Andruil’s summer island. The sailors of her personal barge are eager to claim it as a sweet welcome; though Uthvir thinks that they would claim so of any port, unless the weather was foul. They do fairly well at sea, unlike some of the Princess’ paid companions and guards, and so they end up roped into helping unload some of her more precious cargo. Trophies, mostly. Taken from the great sea creatures which the princess lives to challenge, as surely as any land beast or beach-combing drake.

The seal is a flash in the corner of their eyes, at first. A flipper in the water; a head peering up alongside the planks of the dock. Uthvir notes its presence, but does not bother much about it. It is hardly a threat, and their hunting kit and gear are still being carted off to the palace. They have a knife with them, of course, but there is no need to go carving up curious seals at the dock. The cargo is more important.

Uthvir is on their third trip to and from the palace, and the light is beginning to fade, when one of the other workers drops a wine skin onto the dock by accident. The man nearly lets go of the crate he is helping them carry in order to pick it up. But Uthvir barks at him sharply, reminding him of his priorities, and gets him to keep moving. A dropped personal item can be retrieved later; a dropped crate full of trophies will bring the princess down on their heads.

They have gotten to the loading area, when they spy the seal bobbing up. And then, quick as a flash, the animal lunges its head out and snags the wine skin off of the dock. Then it disappears back beneath the water, with barely a ripple left behind.

The man, of course, is dismayed by his inability to find the wine skin.

Uthvir is amused.

They do not expect to see a repeat of the incident, though. It is mostly just a funny story, which they keep to themselves as the annoying dock worker accuses his fellows of stealing his wine. They spare an idle thought to wonder if the seal got drunk - more likely it just spilled everything out into the sea waters, though. And then they go back to business. Princess Andruil is displeased. Her parents are calling for her to wed, and she has been stringing up her suitors left and right. After the latest diplomatic fiasco, she has been sent to cool her heels. In a lavish estate with plenty of companions, of course. But it is more the principle of the thing that has her infuriated.

Uthvir weathers her wrath and tempers it as best as they can, aiming to distract her with hunts along the island beaches, and off into the interior wilds. Not that there is much game; but then, that is likely meant to be part of the punishment. They wonder, sometimes, if Andruil’s parents know that her punishments have far more cost upon her servants than herself.

But then, Uthvir doubts they would care much either way. Such is the manner of monarchs and royalty.

They see the same seal again, however. Not that they realize it at first. As Andruil’s party camps along the beach, Uthvir spies some seals on the rocks further down the cliffside. Sunning themselves, letting loose all manner of noise and some rather distinctive odours, too, as a few gulls flit about. One of the seals is tawny, and moving steadily down the beach. It is the colour and movement that catches their idle eye, as the hunters take their own rest. Their goals are not the seals, anyway, but the drakes in the region.

The tawny seal is dragging something, they realize. Something too colourful to be a fish, or another seal. Upon closer inspection, they recognize a beach parasol. One done up in a bright enough blue that the owner is probably a noble of some kind. Possibly one of Andruil’s more courtly handmaidens. Although now it seems the seal is quite determined to claim it, as it drags the prize into the surf, and then disappears into the water with it. Then they do put the similarities together, and suppose it might be the same one which claimed the wine skin from the docks.

Sneaky little thief.

How has it come by this interest, they wonder? A seal wouldn’t have much use for a parasol, or wine. Perhaps it is simply too stupid to realize that these things are not food?

But surely one bite would reveal that, at least with the parasol at any right. And yet, the seal had seemed very determined to take it. Uthvir cannot help but feel amused when their party picks up again, and they later learn that, indeed, one of Andruil’s handmaidens had managed to lose a very expensive parasol from her little beach camp. Not too far from where the seals had gathered.

After that, they find themselves keeping an eye out. There are few more incidents. The seal nicks a basket from a different set of docks, as Uthvir sits and watches the sunset. Enjoying some peace and quiet. And they see it for the fourth time, carrying an empty bottle in its mouth and crossing a different segment of beach, as it hurries back into the water. The animal is striking, that not enough to be _too_  distinct from its peers. It has unusually vivid eyes, and a glossier coat than most. Fewer scars. A young one, perhaps? More curious than the others?

Uthvir is not often given to moments of affection for animals. It is a poor place to leave some stray emotion, they have found. They were bought as a child to be a companion for Andruil, and Andruil’s main opinion on animals is that they are fair sport. Nowadays it is drakes and sea serpents and wyverns, but when they were young, a stray cat or dog would serve just as well. At least until her parents realized she would not be dissuaded, and pushed her into the more nobler concept of hunting instead.

But they think they might, tentatively, be amused by this creature.

Well, it _is_  curious in its interests, if nothing else.

The next time they see it hanging around the docks, they decide to test things. They pull a spare handkerchief from their pocket, and leave it on one of the dock posts. High enough that the seal would have to move deliberately to get it, but near enough to be seen. Then they move back. But though they can spy the creature watching from the shadows beside the ship, it makes no move towards the item until they are a fair distance away. Then it darts up; they catch the move from the corner of their eye. And by the time they turn, the waters are still, and the handkerchief is gone.

Smart, sneaky thief.

They wonder if there is a limit to the sorts of things it will take.

Experimenting is an easy enough hobby to kill some of their down time with. Better than drinking with the sailors, to be honest, though they still do some of that, too. But they discover that the tawny seal will ignore anything that would be easily found on beaches or in water. Shells, pebbles, even fish are all summarily ignored. Likewise, some common objects do not seem to garner much interest. Ropes, buckets, nets… though in the last case, Uthvir might attribute some general, aquatic wisdom to the discretion.

The items which the seal will almost always go for, provided it feels safe enough, are elven-made goods. And sometimes pieces of fruit. Uthvir is a little surprised, after the fish, when the offering of a whole apple is snatched. A pineapple they themselves nick from the kitchen stores is also claimed. The seal takes a chipped ceramic bowl, a dulled old pen knife, a hopelessly broken pocket watch, and a fork, but the item it makes the boldest move for is a book.

Uthvir sets the book beside them, as they sit out on the beach. They do not actually intend it to be an offering. The surf is gentle, and the weather is good for another day in a row, and their back aches. The sun helps ease some of their pains. The book helps distract their thoughts. But at some point, they manage to drift off. Alone, for a pleasant change, and simply too tired and too lulled by the sounds of the waves to really resist.

They snap awake at the sense of something drawing near. Tensing, reaching for their knife before they blink, and find themselves looking into a pair of vivid, violet eyes.

And then the seal turns, with their book in its mouth, and beats the hastiest retreat they have ever seen such an animal make. Moving in its awkward land-gallop, flippers flopping and splashing until it is in the water, and then gone again. Uthvir’s book a lost cause at that point, between the seal’s teeth and the sea.

Well.

At least it was not a particularly _expensive_  book. Just an idle tale they bought for two pennies off of one of the sailors, about lusty pirates and whatnot. They suppose they should stop encouraging the Trash Thief, though. If it grows too bold, that would be as poor for its health as for the belongings of the other beach-goers.

Uthvir sees no sign of the animal, as they dust themselves off. But they do not shake the feeling of being watched until they head back up towards the palace road.

~

Aili’s clan has traversed these waters from time immemorial. A few of the oldest members even recall a time before the elves came to the Big Island. There had been a great deal of panic about it initially, since it was the best place to shelter during a large storm, and they all relied on the summer fruit and freshwater fish for food in the months when most of their usual prey migrated to cooler waters. 

The elves had not built a very large settlement, however. And their numbers seem to fluctuate throughout the year, just like the ocean fish, though with a much lower rate of consistency. Much of the forests and the smaller stretches of beach were left undisturbed, and the sea caves where they hide their young and any other precious treasures remain undiscovered. Still, as a general rule, when a large ship docks at the island, the selkies give them a wide birth. Most of them even going so far as to move off to smaller surrounding islands until the coast is clear.

Aili has never really bothered adhering to that rule.

Their clan leader, Deshanna, despairs over her fascination with the elves and has given her more than one scolding about it over the years, but she can't quite seem to help herself. She is adamant that learning about them could benefit their people. After all, the elves' bodies are similar to the shapes the selkies take when they need to move further inland. They have so many strange customs and marvelously crafted items, it is impossible not to be curious, at the very least. There must be _something_ they can learn from them.

For a long time now, Aili has limited the scope of her research to whatever she could rescue from the occasional wrecked ship that ended up near the Big Island. But those are usually curtesy of the storms and sea monsters that lived out in the open ocean and come with their own dangers. A lone seal, even an intelligent one with a bit of magic on her side, is an easy target for a lot of large marine predators. By comparison, the newly arrived vessel full of brightly adorned elves seems like a much safer gamble, with the potential for much rarer prizes. Unspoiled and unbroken by time and the crushing surf.

The temptation is beyond resisting, really.

Most of them do not pay much attention to the other seals who lounge about on the beaches. They are much more preoccupied with the drakes who come to the shoreline to bask in the warm rays of the sun and hunt crabs. They might kill one who got caught in one of their fishing nets or got too close to their settlement, but Aili is not foolish enough to let either of those things happen.

Her risks are calculated. She keeps to the shadows, blends in with bands of normal seals, and only takes things that are far enough away from the elves that they would have a hard time catching her even if they saw her making off with their property. She keeps track of the different elves and their personalities, too.  Parsing out who is relatively safe to steal from, and who should be left alone for fear of retribution. There are more on the island than usual, but not so many that she cannot keep track of who is who. Even if quite a few of them look the same to her eyes.

There is a princess here.

Aili doesn't really know what a princess is, but it must be something terrifying. Whenever the other elves speak of her, it is with a thrum of fear in their voice, or the harsh edge of a threat. She does her best to piece together words and meanings from their speech, hiding beneath a dock, or bobbing in the shallows when a group of them are on the beach, but she knows that the process is likely very hit-and-miss in terms of accuracy.

There is one elf, who she supposes must be the Princess. She is tall and dark with cruel eyes, and the others of her kind seem keen to win her favor. They call her Malady, bending their bodies in some strange show of deference. Bearing the back of their necks.

Perhaps a Princess is an Alpha? The leader of her clan, like Deshanna. Some groups of selkies are more war-like than her own, but even they are not usually so vicious with their own people. Malady does not seem overly bothered when the members of her clan fight, however. Nor does she seem upset when a member of her party is injured. If anything, she seems to find it amusing. One elf had even been killed in their quest to slay a particularly large drake, and she had seemed… _disgusted_ as he was hauled away. Inconvenienced.

It is enough to make Aili reconsider her bold attempts to pilfer from the elves. She does not suppose Princess Malady would be especially merciful if she managed to catch her.  

But not all the elves are like the Princess.

There is a very plump one who likes to come down to the water's edge and feed the gulls, and even a seal or two, if they're feeling brave enough to waddle ashore. There is also a tall one with very long hair who likes to dangle their feet in the water and sing songs to themselves. When there is no large ship at the island, there is a couple who likes to come down to the beach during the full moon and dance together in the surf. She's never interacted with any of them personally, of course, but she is fond of them, in her way. She likes to watch them. Likes to wonder about how their lives might be similar to her own. And how different.

And then there is her new favorite, who seems to have a peculiar fondness for the color red.

She had not paid too much attention to the red elf at first. They came on the big ship and did not immediately stand out from their fellows. They do seem to interact with Princess Malady a lot, but it's hard to tell if they actually enjoy it. What had really ended up catching her attention is that they seem to have noticed _her_.

And instead of trying to catch her or chase her off, they had inexplicably begun leaving presents out where she might find them.

She had been understandably wary at first. Worried that they might have guessed her nature. It seemed like a very obvious trap. Time had proven otherwise, though, and Red had helped her expand her collection exponentially in these past few weeks.

Aili looks around her own private little sea cave with a sense of pride. She had discovered it all on her own a few years back and had decided that it seemed like the perfect place to hide all her trinkets and treasures. It is far too small to be of much use to the clan, and it is only accessible by an underwater tunnel, so she does not have to worry about a storm of angry elves coming to reclaim their belongings. There is a type of algae growing in the cave that will glow at just the slightest touch of magic, and in a moment the entire room is sparkling and twinkling faintly, like a field of stars.

She spits her latest acquisition, a strange floppy rectangle, onto the rocky ledge before pulling herself up out of the water. Every few days it is good to change her shape. To shift out of her seal skin so that it can be properly cleaned and cared for. It is also nice to have hands.

Aili stretches out her legs a little, her toes always feel a little strange after she shifts, and then decides that the floppy rectangle deserves some closer inspection.

Red had been gazing at it very intensely for a long period of time. She assumed it must be showing them pictures or otherwise imparting knowledge and information to them in some way, which is why she had wanted it so badly. She's not sure how smart Red really is, but she doesn't think they would just aimlessly stare at something for no reason.

Unfortunately, the rectangle is now very…soggy. And the floppy bits on the inside seem to be largely stuck together. What she can make out seems to be lots of strange squiggling. And a picture of an elf in strange wrappings that do not seem to be doing a very good job of concealing her figure.

Aili's brow furrows, trying to parse out meaning. Some of the things she had taken had a very obvious purpose. The soft bladder made of hide for holding liquid, and the little blue tree they popped open for shade. Some things are simply beautiful for the sake of beauty, of course, but that does not seem to be the case with the floppy rectangle.

Perhaps the squiggles are…letters? Words? It is hard to be certain, since the salt water has smeared a lot of it quite badly, but it seems to make sense. Aili's clan has a written language, but it is very old. Old as the sea and the wind and the island itself. It is for writing spells on stone. For clan markers to guide lost souls to friendly waters. Never something as frivolous and fragile as this rectangle that barely seems to have survived fifteen minutes under the water.

She begins to worry though. What if the rectangle _is_ full of spells? What if Red is responsible for keeping their clan's magics and records safe, and Aili made off with them on a whim? Will they get in trouble? Will they tell the Princess about her stealing?

She will never forgive herself if she took something so precious only to ruin it.

Aili casts a dubious glance at her prize. Maybe she could…dry it out? She could return it to Red, and then they would not get into trouble. They will not be mad at her.

Perhaps she could even offer them something by way of an apology…

She wonders if they like fish.     

~

Uthvir makes a point to stop leaving trinkets out for the strange little seal by the docks. To stop encouraging it. They think they may be developing too much of a soft spot for it - and they do not care much for the idea of what might happen to it, should it be bold enough to approach the wrong elves under the wrong conditions.

Andruil is growing increasingly bored with her exile, anyway, and that creates more than enough tasks for them, as they attempt to find ways of occupying her. Preferably ones that do not leave anyone battered or bloodied, or at least, not more than they can handle. The princess’s younger sister writes her letters, which only seem to sour her mood, as Sylaise gloats over her sister’s punishment and goes on at length about her own many suitors. One of whom she _will_ pick. Uthvir does not doubt this - marrying first would give her a definitive edge over her elder sister. And despite her obvious distaste for the concept of wedding, Andruil dislikes the prospect of being bested far more.

So they do their best to ensure that there are parties and outings and hunts, games and challenges, and new places to explore. They scout out the forests and small islands off of the coast, and speak with locals and check the libraries to find out everything they can on what might occupy the attention of a very bored and aggrieved princess.

Times like these, they desperately wish Andruil had developed a taste for embroidery. After all, it involves stabbing things aplenty, and precision and accomplishment. But no, despite a certain aptitude for it, the princess had dismissed such tasks as too tedious and dull.

Possibly also too mathematical.

Uthvir had declined to voice that observation, though. They like their skin just where it is.

Traversing the island is a fair replacement distraction from amusing themselves with the antics of a clever seal. But the more they do it, the more given they are to the impression that there is something… _odd,_ about the place. They suspect some of the locals may be living more in the woods than reports might have indicated, and they find signs of odd carvings out on some of the smaller islands. Shells with unfamiliar patterns carved into them dot a few of the forest beaches. In one of the inland lagoons, they even think they see a maiden. Just for a moment. A flash of a face, bobbing up above the surface of the water. But when they go to look again, it is just another seal. This one large and brown, and obviously not pleased to have its bathing interrupted.

Uthvir thinks of mentioning some of the oddities and mysteries to Andruil. Wild goose chases might keep her occupied. But in the end, they hold their tongue. If she should fail to find _anything,_ after Uthvir presents her with such mysteries, then there is no question of whether the blame will fall on their idea or Andruil’s skills.

Instead, when things begin to veer into dangerous territory with the princess’s boredom, Uthvir arranges for another sea serpent hunt. Being cooped up on a ship has its downsides. But a successful hunt of that magnitude will likely satisfy her for a month or so - hopefully, enough time for her parents to call her back to court.

They _do_ want her married, after all. Biddable; not actually absent.

As they are making their preparations at the docks, though, while the sun settles into evening, they see a familiar head bob up above the waters.

Most _definitely_ a seal this time.

Uthvir watches from the corner of their eye. They have a few things, they suppose. Some odd buttons, a bracelet they had bought on a whim… but they remind themselves that they are discouraging the animal, now. And so they keep going about their tasks, not leaving anything aside where any curious wildlife might get to it.

They notice when the seal moves closer to the dock.

But they are still not quite expecting the _thunk_ of something heavy hitting the wooden planks.

For a moment they almost think the seal has jumped up. They turn, ready to shoo it back into the water - bold thing; and they have no one to blame but themselves - but stop when they see nothing but a damp bag lying on the dock.

With a quick glance around to confirm that, indeed, no one is nearby enough to have dropped it, Uthvir reaches out one foot, and gives the bag a nudge. They watch the water. And after a quick search, they spy the seal again. This time much further out, peering at them from the shadow of some rocks.

Or… potentially not? That seems unusual behaviour for a seal.

But the bag does look as though it has been dragged through the water.

“What is this?” Uthvir murmurs to themselves. Amused, and a little impressed, despite everything. “I stop giving gifts, so you give me one back?”

They lean down, at last, and for lack of anything better to do, pick up the bag.

It is a lunch satchel, they realize, of the sort a dock worker might keep their food in. They have seen a few people carrying similar ones around. The material is somewhat resilient to water, though not entirely. And the button is gone from the flap. They open it up, and to their astonishment, pull out the book which the seal thief had snatched from them on the beach.

And a mackerel.

With a huff of laugh, as astonished as anything, they lift both items up. The mackerel has only a few precision tooth marks in it. The book is water-logged, but drier than they might expect from having presumably spent a week in the sea. The writing is smudged beyond legibility, though. They glance back to where the seal is watching, only to see it duck back down below the surface of the water.

Is this normal behaviour for seals?

They had heard from the locals that they can be quite clever. Have even shown signs of a sense of humour. But giving gifts and returning stolen goods… well. Uthvir supposes they do have a lot in common with dogs, and Andruil’s hounds have been known to offer up food and return stolen items, too, when chastised. It is not something they would expect from a wild animal… seals _are_ communal, though…

They sigh at themselves and pick up the items.

As if they are such an expert at animals. They know how to track and kill them better than how to comprehend them. But after a moment, on a whim, they put the buttons and the bracelet they had considered into the satchel. Then they close it again and toss it back off of the dock.

“You had best not get too close,” they warn. “If the princess or her attendants get half a chance, they will skin you for certain.”

Then they take the fish and the book. Mackerel for lunch does not sound too bad, and for some reason it strikes them as discourteous to toss the ruined book out where the seal might see.

 _Wouldn’t want to offend the local wildlife,_ they think at themselves, ruefully. Shaking their head, and then finishing up the last of their tasks. They hear a splash; but when they turn to look, see nothing. With another shake of their head at themselves, they head back up the dock and to the road again.

The hunt is scheduled for day after tomorrow. Weather permitting. Tomorrow, the sailors swear, will be rain and wind, but then clear again. Uthvir is inclined to put faith in their uncanny knack for calling such things. They cook the little mackerel for themselves on the public hearth, and snack at it as they brace themselves for an evening of verbal jousting with the princess.

It goes about as well as it ever does.

The next day, they head for the docks again. Sea serpents are large prey. Big as whales, but thrice as dangerous. They have been known to break ships in half, and swallow sailors whole, and their scales are thick and impossible for most weapons to crack. Precision aiming is required, and speed as well. Uthvir has seen the greater serpents capsize lifeboats and use them to bludgeon the former occupants, before vanishing into the depths with the stunned elves in their jaws.

Some tales of the sea are exaggerated. But they know firsthand that the sea serpents are not.

When the get to the docks, then, they are not pleased to find things in commotion. A group of workers gathered around a pile of netting. Uthvir frowns and makes their way over. If they have to delay the hunting trip because the workers are telling some tall fish tales of their own, they will take the payment for it out of _their_ hides, too.

But when they get closed, they hear the sounds of a panicked seal bark.

“ _I_ caught it,” one of the dock workers is saying. “The witch’s coin is going to me, I don’t have to give any share-”

There is an obvious tumult over this declaration.

Uthvir’s heart sinks as they look and see, and indeed, it is the tawny seal. The little trash thief, caught up in a pile of fishing net.

It gives them a look which they could only describe as _beseeching._

“What’s going on?” they snap.

The workers all turn, at once, with reflexive guilt on their faces.

“Ah,” says one. “Serah Uthvir! Um, yer… huntership. We were just talking about the catch.” Raising a hand, he gestures towards the animal in question.

“A seal?” they drawl. “All this fuss, in working hours, for a common beach animal?”

“Well, y’see, there’s this witch-” one of them begins. Another elbows her, and she shuts up again.

“It’s nothin’,” the man who elbowed her says. “We’ll get back to work, get right to it, just as soon as we’ve got it squared away.”

They raise an eyebrow.

“What was that about a witch?” they ask.

The workers exchange glances.

“…It’s not.. she’s not a _real_ witch, o’course,” the one who was trying to claim the whole catch finally declares. “Just some strange woman who lives out on one of the smaller island. Ghilan’nain, she’s called. She makes remedies and some o’ the superstitious folk thinks she can curse folks, like. But she pays good money for live seals. Some for dead seals, too, but mostly for live. It’s my catch, y’see, and I need coin for the roof, now that we’ve got our third on the way…”

The man trails off, as Uthvir continues to stare him down.

They glance at the seal.

Really, it is none of their business. Granted, they might have caused this kind of situation by encouraging the behaviour. But that is life, in the end. Animals die so that elves can profit and prosper.

Still. It would hardly do to have the workers distracted, traveling and trying to keep their catch alive.

“How much does this Ghilan’nain pay?” they ask.

The workers glance around, and debate softly among themselves for a moment. Eventually, a number is produced. Uthvir purses their lips. Then they reach to their belt, and pull out the specified amount. Whether the workers low-balled it to ensure that Uthvir would not try to take their prize themselves, or exaggerated it in anticipation of their decision, they cannot quite say. But it is enough for them to cover; even if it means they will be eating lentils a few nights, and hunting or fishing their dinner a few more.

“I will not have you all distracted, the princess must leave for her hunt and the preparations must be perfect,” they declare, splitting the money three ways. “So there is your coin. That said, if everything is not completed to my satisfaction, you will all be flogged.”

The workers put off arguing over the three-way split in favour of hurrying back to their tasks, at that. Uthvir gives them a moment to disperse. Then they kneel down and start to cut the seal free of the net.

Violet eyes look up at them with something they could only describe as gratitude.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” they murmur. “If they catch you again, you are on your own.”

The last rope slides free.

The seal wriggles out of the mess of the net and hurls itself eagerly back into the water. Uthvir watches just long enough to see it vanish into the sea again, before pocketing their knife, and then turning to head back towards their own duties.

~

As soon as Aili feels that she is a safe distance away, she ducks into the deep shadows of a rocky outcropping in order to watch the activities on the docks.

They seem to be loading up the big ship again, which is why she had dared to venture so close in the first place. Busy hands and distracted gazes generally mean something of potential worth might fall into the water. Lots of people also mean lots of talking, and a better chance at picking up some new words.

But…are they leaving for good?

After her narrow escape, she is not exactly eager to try her thieving for a while, but… She would like to find some way of thanking Red. Among her people, a life debt is a very serious matter. She did not understand everything her captors had said, but their tone reminded her very strongly of seals fighting over an especially nice fish. She doubts things would have ended well for her if they had not interceded on her behalf.

Red is not part of her clan, or even another selkie, but she owes them _something_ , surely. And she wants to make sure to give it to them before they leave.

If, in fact, they _are_ leaving.

There is only one way to know for certain.

As fast as her flippers will take her, Aili swims to the far side of the Big Island. Where the woods are still wild, and the beaches are rocky and largely undisturbed. Spirits of the island who prefer to live in the air and on the land had been nearly as distraught by the arrival of the elves as the selkies and have been driven back to where the jungle is thickest, and the slopes are steep and difficult to climb. They are better at hiding their nature than the selkies, though, and generally trickier to catch. They come in various shapes, and many of them can shift into several forms if they wish to. So, most of them do not feel the need to vacate the island wen a big ship docks.

And a few of them are just as interested in the elves as she is.

"Curiosity!"Aili calls as she finishes changing her shape and ties her seal cloak about her waist, picking her way up through a narrow path to where the little spirit likes to roost. "Are you there? Curiosity, I need to speak to you!"

"Aili?" a voice answers from above her as a blue and green parrot emerges from the tree leaves, "This is an odd time of day for you to be here. Did something happen?"

"Yes, but I can't explain now," Aili replies, panting slightly as she tries to catch her breath, "The elves are packing up the big ship to leave, do you know if they are coming back?"

"They always come back eventually," Curiosity reminds her dryly. As its name might imply, the spirit has an inquisitive nature, and it likes to watch the elves just as much as Aili does, but that doesn't mean it does not hold a bit of resentment about being forced out into the more dangerous parts of the forest. It heaves a sigh at the look of mild desperation on Aili's face. "But if you meant to ask if they are leaving for any great length of time; I do not think so. There has been a lot of talk about hunting. The Princess is displeased unless she can be stabbing things. And when she has no game to stab, she tends to stab her servants. Or at least that is what I have observed."

"I have noticed much the same," Aili admits, "But they usually send the little boats out to fish and bring back spoils for feasting, don't they? How much food do they need that they are sending out the big ship? Are more elves coming?"

"I do not think they eat everything they hunt," Curiosity tells her.

"What?" Aili balks, "But that's… What do they even do with it then?"

"I am not sure," Curiosity confesses, "But I think it might be more for getting parts of the animals that are useful for making other things."

"Couldn't they just wait until the animal is dead to take them?" Aili wonders.

 "I doubt the Princess has enough patience for that," Curiosity snorts, "And sometimes I think their crafts require parts from more than just one animal. And some of the things they hunt would be awfully hard to get to once they are dead. I think I heard some of the ones on the docks talking about catching sea serpents."

"They're going after a sea serpent?" Aili cries in dismay, "But even the smaller green ones could snap a ship that size in half!"

"Maybe so," Curiosity sighs, "But there's not much we can do about it. If they want to throw their lives away, we are not in much of a position to stop them."

Aili pauses for a moment, considering. She looks down at the bracelet Red gave her. Warm golden thread woven together in a pattern with little hard shiny bits. Almost like pearls or stones, but more brightly colored and transparent. Red and blue and honey-colored. She touches it gently, turning it so that it catches the light.

It is so beautiful, and they gave it to her for nothing. Just as they had set her free for nothing. For no better reason than their own mercy. Or perhaps it had been pity. Or even some strange sense of fondness.

She bites her lip.

"Curiosity… Do you know what a…a 'ghilan'nain' is?" Aili wonders.

"It is the name the elves have for the Pale Lady who lives out on the rocky island closest to this one," the spirit replies.

"The one who hunts seals?" Aili presses, "And does more awful things than simply killing them? The one who took Moira a few years back?"

"Yes," Curiosity confirms, "Why do you ask?"

"Because they saved me from her," Aili answers, clenching her fists with determination as she turns on her heel and begins to make her way back towards the water.

"Wait!" Curiosity calls, flitting through the trees after her, "Who saved you? What happened?"

"I'll tell you later, " Aili promises, already untying her seal cloak. "But right now, I've got a boat to catch."


	2. Driftwood

Uthvir feels on edge for the rest of the preparations for the hunting excursion. But after the incident with the seal and the net, things manage to progress smoothly enough. They shove off without a hitch. Andruil arrives a little later than hoped, but there is a gleam in her eye, and she laughs as she leaps aboard the vessel.

“I have decided something,” she declares. “Given half the chance, we are going to take not one serpent, but two.”

Uthvir has to resist the urge to balk at her declaration. They know immediately what has happened; Andruil has realized that no serpent-hunting expedition has ever returned with more than one prize, if they manage to return at all.

If they do not play this right, they are liable to spend an age at sea, trying to chase down more than one serpent. The creatures are known to have social groups, but they rarely approach the surface. When they do, it is almost always one at a time. The big creatures have few predators - they _are_  predators. Big ones. Surfacing in large numbers tends to scare off their prey.

And like Andruil, they prefer to hunt alone.

“Given half the chance,” is what they say, agreeably. “Though I wonder if we will find even one befitting your skills.”

“We had _better,”_  the princess informs them, mood turning in the direction they had not hoped for. She reaches over and pats their cheek. “This is your idea after all. If I spend untold hours on some fish-stinking boat only to end up with nothing to show for it, I’ll know precisely who to blame.”

Uthvir inclines their head.

“Of course,” they agree. Hoping that this is not like the time she decided to blame them for the weather.

She knows better, naturally, but it seems she is looking for excuses. The excursion probably could not come soon enough, provided that they are successful. Uthvir shadows Andruil as she takes some of her boredom out on her other companions, alternating between bold declarations and snapping accusations. She calms a little when they set out, and then declares a desire to head for the captain’s cabin and ‘strategize’. The cabin, of course, has been afforded to her; the captain is a smart woman who steers well clear of the princess, so long as Andruil does not interfere with the crew. And Andruil has brought more than enough people to interfere with on her own.

Uthvir is beckoned to follow her.

They spend the next several hours going over the maps of the area, as Uthvir tells Andruil what they know about the good serpent-hunting grounds - not for the first time - and Andruil purses her lips, and reviews their strategy. Harpoons and similar weapons are needed for bringing down serpents. The ideal hunt is swift. The prey must not be permitted to retaliate, after all.

But that makes for the main complication of the hunt. On vessels that usually seek out serpents, there is no limitation to who might strike the killing blow. Multiple spearmen, harpooners, and gunners are employed.

Here, though, the hunt is Andruil’s. Uthvir and the others present to assist must limit themselves to containing or, if need be, distracting their quarry. For such a long hunt and such a prestigious kill, Andruil _must_  make the finishing blow herself. Or else she will consider the whole trip to be for naught, and the costs will be worse than the benefits. Undoubtedly, too, she will punish whoever ‘steals’ the prey from her - and at this rate, probably insist upon staying out and killing another serpent for more reasons than mere challenge.

That means there is only one harpoon gun stationed on the vessel. Uthvir has their spear, of course, and some of the other hunters have lighter guns. The swiftness of the hunt is compromised, however.

But this is not their first time facing this dilemma.

And they have a trick for buying more time.

“The nets are good?” Andruil inquires, clearly building into the excitement of this expedition, now.

Uthvir nods.

“I checked them myself,” they say. “They are the right make, but smaller than the last ones we used. There is a _small_  chance that we might find a serpent that is too big for them. We may have to wait for another to surface, in that case, or else they will not be able to restrain all of it.”

Andruil does not like that. Uthvir had not anticipated that she would, but it still bears mentioning. The odds of them finding a beast big enough to challenge the nets, particularly in this region, is low. But if they do not mention it at _all…_  that would likely be worse.

“I do not care for being limited but such pithy constraints,” the princess snaps.

“I know,” Uthvir agrees. “But there was nothing for it. We lacked the materials for a large net. And anyway, size is not the only indicator of an impressive serpent. Everyone knows the horns are the most valuable part, and older, longer serpents have typically lost theirs altogether. Poor quarry anyway.”

Andruil is slightly mollified by this reminder. She drums her fingers on the map table, and then lets it go.

“If I want a big serpent, I will take it. If that means I must be exceptional in order to do so, then I will just have to be exceptional,” she determines. Her lips curl into a smirk. “But you’re right. There’s no point in just being contrary about it. I know worthy prey when I see it.”

She straightens up from the table, and then reaches over, and places a hand at the back of their neck. Offering a possessive squeeze, that has them struggling not to tense. After a moment, she lets go of them, and sighs.

“Open a window,” she decides. “It smells musty in here.”

They move to do as asked, and even steal a moment to watch the sunlight glinting on the waters. A small splash catches their eye. But when they go to look, they hear a sudden, unexpected call from the deck.

“Spotted!”

Even Andruil takes a moment to respond to that. They are not so far from the island as Uthvir had assumed they would need to go. But it only takes them aback for a moment. Then they are hurrying up to the deck, as the crew scrambles. The scout in the crow’s nest is gesturing. Andruil takes out a spyglass, but Uthvir can see it well enough with their naked eye. Distant, but distinct. The long coils of a serpent, curling up amid the waves. Though the beast is far enough that when its head finally rises, Uthvir cannot see much of it.

Just the outline of _four_  horns.

Andruil lowers the spyglass, a near-manic gleam in her eye.

“Perfect,” she breathes.

“How big is it?” Uthvir wonders. The serpent is still swimming; seafarer’s wisdom is to count the coils that arc out of the water. They are on five, and it is still going. If they beat eight, then…

“I don’t care,” Andruil decides, at once. “Its scales are like gems, and I have never before seen one with a full set of four horns. It is my prey.”

They feel a chill.

Seven coils.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten…

Andruil barks out order, and Uthvir must rouse themselves to do the same. They retrieve their spear from beside the cabin door, and call out to the net casters, as Andruil makes her way to the harpoon gun.

“Spread out!” they command. “Focus on the ends, head and tail! This is a big one, we need to try and limit the thrashing!”

The hunters scramble, as Uthvir directs the gunners and spearmen, too. Reminding them to aim to wound and incapacitate, but not to kill. They make certain to phrase it as ‘avoiding glory-seeking’. Andruil is fine with them restricting the other hunters on the grounds of being pragmatic in their hunt, but she takes exception to the implication that someone else might need to refrain from lethal blows in order to afford her the chance.

But if they neglect to clarify that, she will still take it out on whoever is unlucky enough to kill her prey, too.

The ship turns and begins to close the distance to the serpent; anticipating its trajectory and aiming to run up alongside it. As they draw closer, Uthvir sees the head emerge again. This time, near enough to make out some of the gem-like colours which Andruil spoke of.

They frown.

This… this does not look anything like the breed of serpents that are meant to be in the area.

“Princess,” the say. “Do you recognize the breed?”

Andruil shakes her head.

“No. But we can figure out what type it is when it’s dead. It’s usually easier that way anyhow,” she replies, with a broad grin.

“Some serpents know magic-”

“This one will not have time to scream, let alone cast a spell,” she insists. “If you are going to be tiresome, go stand somewhere else. And keep an eye on the tail.”

Uthvir remains for a moment. Silent. Watching them draw closer to the beast. Watching the water around the creature, too. They can see the odd currents; but when they glance at Andruil, still with her spyglass, they know that she can as well.

She will not be deterred.

They make their way swiftly to the other end of the ship, and secure themselves, making ready to use their magic as well as their spear.

If Andruil misses…

Andruil hardly ever misses. But if…

Uthvir makes note of the lifeboats, again, as they finally pull close enough to hear the splash of the serpent’s movements. They force themselves to focus, and call out at the net casters to ready themselves. The nets will only buy them a moment more time, before this serpent will be able to thrash free of them.

Andruil gestures for the casters to hold, though, as she lines up her shot. Uthvir holds their breath along with it. The tension in the air palpable, the ship silent as a stone, until the serpent’s head comes up again and the princess fires. Aiming for the serpent’s eye.

The shot goes wide.

The harpoon scrapes along a protruding eye-ridge of scales. Enough to give the serpent a warning, rather than a fatal blow. The creature rears. Massive fins flare out from its neck, and its tail comes up to slap a warning of its own against the surface of the water.

“Now!” Uthvir shouts at the net casters. They throw, the sharp flare of their magic helping to direct the gleaming strands of high-quality netting. The first tangles in the serpent’s horns, but the next four pieces strike its body, and tighten around it. The ship gives a lurch as the serpent drags against it. If not for the skill of the net-casters’ spellwork, the whole plan would be impossible, as a single move like that would tip the entire ship over. But the spells and the nets and the elves aboard all have enough magic combined to hold fast, and so instead the serpent can only contort.

Until its scales _ripple,_  like knives. The netting holding its tail is sliced to ribbons, though the remaining two still manage to grip it. They are only holding the middle of its body, though, leaving the dangerous head and tail to thrash towards the ship.

The spearmen aim for its fins, but even those seem impervious; sending the weapons falling away.

Andruil fires her second shot, and misses the eye again. But Uthvir can see what she is thinking. The only place they know for certain to be a weak point on an unfamiliar, armoured breed of serpent _would_  be the eyes. The beast thrashes against the remaining nets, and sends a rush of water across the deck. Enough to soak the princess, and half the crew, and knock the gunners from their feet.

The eyes…

If they kill the serpent, Andruil will probably take it out of their hide.

If they don’t, though, the serpent will destroy the ship.

On balance, they think they would rather take a gamble on the woman they’ve known since childhood, than on the unforgiving depths of the sea and all the sharp-toothed creatures within it. Uthvir does not have time to hesitate when they finally get an open shot to the serpent’s eye. Further back than the princess, but still true. They fling their spear, with as much force as they can muster. In the same moment Andruil screams a battle cry and fires her third shot from the harpoon gun, aiming for the softer flesh of the creature’s neck instead.

The harpoon bounces of off the neck. Hitting scales that seem to be as hard as all the others, unlike on most breeds Another anomaly. The serpent’s tail is raised and its jaws are poised, and its head flings backwards as Uthvir’s spear does what Andruil’s harpoon could not, and strikes the creature dead in the eye. An echoing scream escapes it. Blood pours from the wound. The serpent thrashes, but its movements are no longer a coherent attack, and the dangerous tail his the water instead of the ship.

The spear, however, has not pierced all the way to the beast’s brain. Uthvir can tell by the way the serpent is moving, and they let out a curse as the inarticulate thrashing finally frees it from the last of the netting. It dives back into the water. Retreating; for serpents are smart enough to retreat, at times.

The ship is saved.

But this is the worst of all possible outcomes. The serpent will have gone deep, now, and it will be unlikely to surface. It make even warn others of its kind against their vessel. Hunting with this ship will be doubling challenging, now, if it is even possible; and it is doubtful that Andruil’s parents will let her have another. The crew looks relieved, but Uthvir can feel Andruil’s fury from across the ship.

If they had stolen her kill, she would have made them pay for it.

But they have cost her the quarry altogether. Uthvir has _never_  done that to her before.

The crew is silent, as their princess turns. Her shoulders are tensed, and her hair is wet. Plastered down, slick and dark against her neck as she leaves the harpoon gun and makes her way towards them. They know to expect a blow. They raise their hands, move to drop to their knees. They mustn’t-

Andruil belts them so hard that they hear a sharp _crack,_  and see stars. The sky spins. She howls at them in rage as her boot finds their stomach, and her fist closes in their hair. Grips it tight as she yanks their head back and slams it against the nearest crate.

“How dare you! How _dare_  you!” she rages. “To try to steal my kill, and to _fail?_  You’ve cost me everything! You’ve ruined it all!”

“Andr-”

Uthvir barely gets a sound out before her boot collides with their stomach, and steals their breath again. They bite back a scream, reflexively; and then they wonder if they should. Perhaps the screaming might appease her. Before they can follow that thought, though, she dashes it from their head as well.

They still are not expecting it when she lets loose a cry of inarticulate fury. And her magic snaps, like lightning. Like an explosion. As inarticulate as the cry, in the end. Uthvir hears wood creak and the nearby crate shatter, they feel the force of it slam into them. Hard enough to break their ribs against the railing - except there is no railing. Wood chips rain around them as the magic breaks it. They fall backwards. Back, and back, as the sky spins and Andruil looks at them, in an expression twisting from fury to shock.

But nothing could be so shocking as the feel of the water, when they hit it.

They barely have the time to appreciate it before their vision goes black.

~

It takes nearly all the stamina she has just to keep the ship in sight as it pulls away from the Big Island, but Aili does her best. Hurrying along in the tail end of the ship's wake. She does not know what use she can be against something as monstrous as a sea serpent, but there may be some way she can be helpful.

And if nothing else, she can intercede if something goes wrong.

…It seems as though there are a _lot_ of ways things could go wrong.

Her vantage point in the water does not make things any easier. She can't even see where Red might be on the ship. She does not even know how the elves plan to attack something as large as a sea serpent. The same way they catch other fish? With smaller boats and large nets?

Aili could find Red easily if they used that tactic, but it would also put them in significantly more danger. And she does not want that. She does not relish the idea of dashing through a sea serpent's enormous coils to reach them either.

Between fate and her intense focus on keeping up with the ship, she does not get the chance to fret about it for long.

A great deal of excited shouting starts up from the elves up on the deck, and before long, the ship is turning. Chasing after its prey. And Aili's heart thunders in her chest as she spots it in the distance.

The serpent is a _god_.

 Not in the sense that the selkies worship such beasts, but by the fact that their mere existence creates and destroys life. Eating sharks and whales and giant squid, even taking out entire schools of fish on their own when no other prey is readily available. They change entire ecosystems in passing. And the scavengers who follow them from a safe distance usually do quite well. Ones of this size are usually spirits of some sort. Old ancient things roaming the depths with a few offspring and a mate or two. They almost never come to the surface, and when they do, it is never so close to landfall as this.

They must be desperate and starving.

Aili balks. Stopping her frantic chase for a minute to reconsider. There is nothing she could do against a beast such as this. Even her magic would only glance across its scales unless she got close enough to hit it in the eye. And that would put her within eating range.

That is what decides her, in the end. She hangs back, far enough away that she can easily move out of the serpent's path if it veers in her direction, but still close enough to keep track of what is going on. She wants to help Red if they need it, but she's not much good to anyone if she's dead.

The elves pull up alongside the creature and begin pelting it with things. Magic and projectiles and nets. None of it seems to be especially effective. The serpent thrashes and writhes and poises itself to slap its tail against the side of the ship, and likely rend a hole in the hull, and Aili tenses, readying herself to make a mad sprint into the wreckage to find her not-quite-friend.

And then the beast rears back with a roar of unexpected agony.

It whips its head about in obvious distress, and Aili can see the blood pouring down one side of its head. She dares to swim a bit closer. An injured serpent will be less focused on eating, and more about getting away from whatever actually managed to hurt it. Usually.

It turns out to be a safe guess. The beast dives, and the ship is spared. Aili cautiously edges nearer, still keeping an eye out in case the serpent decides to circle back for revenge. There is an ear-splitting scream and the telltale boom of a spell erupting from someone's hands. She glances upwards just in time to see a shower of splintered wood come raining down into the water, closely followed by one of the ship's crew.

A figure all in red.

They do not move when they hit the water. They do not yell or splash or make some attempt to return to their fellows. They begin to sink, and Aili rushes towards them without a second thought, tugging them back towards the surface with their arm between her jaws. She suspects it might not be very comfortable, but it is likely preferable to drowning.

As it turns out, Red is…not very easy to keep hold of. They have some sort of hard coverings on their chest and arms and some parts of them are even sharp enough to stab at her when she tries to keep them above water. They are not large, but their garb is heavy, and she is already flagging.

At first Aili just tries to hold out until the other elves mount a rescue, but after a few minutes, it becomes evident that no extraction is forthcoming. The ship turns, the sails shift, and before long it is speeding off even farther from the Big Island at a pace that she could not hope to keep up with, even if she was not dragging a passenger along. She nudges at Red, trying to rouse them enough to at least grab onto her themselves, but they remain limp and despondent. Dead weight.

Dead?

She cannot be certain until she has them somewhere safe. She is not willing to give up on them so easily, but if she does not figure out a way to make them easier to carry, they will both end up drowning. Or eaten by a sea serpent intent on revenge.

Aili shifts her form after a few more minutes of indecision. She is more vulnerable likes this, and she cannot swim nearly as fast. But she needs arms and hands right now.

She hastily tugs at the hard covering on their chest, tearing at straps and yanking off any other bits of garb that will come away easily. The thick wrappings on their feet. The spiky parts over their forearms. Everything is surrendered to the depths in order to spare the person bundled up in them.

It is a pity to lose so many things that she could have added to her collection, but Red's survival is the highest priority at the moment.

…Perhaps she can come back for them later.

Red is much lighter now, but they are still not very easy to drag through the water. Part of the ship's railing that had fallen into the sea with them seems big enough to hold them up, so Aili pulls them over to it and latches it to their arm, using her seal cloak as a tie. It is precarious, but as long as she moves them carefully, they will stay afloat without her actually needing to carry them.  

She turns back towards the Big Island and begins paddling awkwardly, tugging her little makeshift raft and its passenger behind her as she goes. It is slow work. By the time she makes landfall at one of the tiny satellite islands that her people sometimes use for sunbathing after a day's hunt, the sun is already beginning to set. She can see the main beach and the docks, but it would probably look bad if one of the other elves saw a strange woman dragging their half-dead comrade out of the water.

For now, getting Red into solid ground is enough. Aili is physically wrung out, but she manages to get them both ashore where she can finally look them over and see just how badly they might be hurt. She smooths damp strands of dark hair from their face. They look pale and there is a deep gash across one side of their forehead. Their breathing is shallow, but when she presses her fingers against their neck, she can feel the fluttering beat of their heart.

Still alive.

She heaves a deep sigh of relief.

Aili is not the best healer in her clan, but she thinks that she should still be able to fix most of what ails them. Probably. She calls her magic to her hands and gently moves the spell over their skin, focusing on their headwound first, and then slowly working her way down the rest of their body. They might have wounds that she cannot see, and she wants to be as thorough as she can.

A bit of color comes back to their cheeks, and it suddenly strikes her that they…have rather nice features, really. Maybe a little sharp around the edges, but they have long lashes and their mouth looks…soft. Red is rather pretty. For an elf.

They still aren't moving though, which is worrisome.

Aili strokes their hair affectionately, as if trying to coax them back towards the waking world. They seem to be breathing, so she doubts they need resuscitation, but she's not sure what else she can do for them. She beings to sing quietly, the way her mother used to when she was feeling ill as a child. Red will not understand the words, of course, but the sound is more important than the meaning, anyway.

After a few minutes, the noise does seem to rouse them. They blink their eyes open and look up at her, groggy and clearly confused. Aili beams at them in turn, daring to move her touch to their cheek for a moment. Buoyant with both her success and Red's recovery.

"Hoo aruh yoo?" they ask. Aili does not know what they said, but it sounded like a question. About her? About them? About how they came to be here?

She is just starting to formulate some ideas of how she might be able to explain what happened to them, but before she gets the chance to try out any of the words she has managed to learn from swimming beneath the docks, her ears pick up the sound of oars lapping at the water. She turns her head to see a little fishing boat heading back towards the docks.

If they come much closer, they will spot her easily.

She shoots an anxious look at Red, not quite wanting to leave them yet. But pragmatism and fear win out, in the end. She snatches up her seal cloak from the sand, and hurriedly dives back into the ocean with a word.         

~

Uthvir has never really had much expectations for death.

Apart from it seeming inevitable, they had always been unwilling to just go along with any self-comforting notions of afterlife or ascension. Despite finding those ideas _immensely_  preferable to the prospect of the void, they also seemed like the kind of thinking that led to people, say, dying valiantly in the name of faith or religion or kings and queens.

Uthvir had always sort of expected Andruil to get them killed, but they never intended to _volunteer_  for it.

So their first thought, upon waking up, is relief. Apparently, there _is_  something beyond death.

That lasts them a good half a second.

Then they become aware of their massive physical discomfort. The pounding in their skull, the feel of gritty sand too-close to their skin, and the sound of singing.

The singing actually is _not_  unpleasant. But everything else is so pettily vile that Uthvir is fairly sure they are alive. They have survived being flung overboard somehow. Did Andruil fish them out? Or maybe the sea serpent swallowed them. Perhaps the old tales are true, and it really _is_  possible to live in the belly of such beasts. Until digestion kicks in, anyway.

Who would be singing in that, though?

Uthvir opens their eyes. The sun immediately works against them, though. But as they blink, they see someone leaning over them. Most of their face cast in shadow by the light behind them, but their hair is fair, and their features soft. And the song - a haunting, lovely but inarticulate tune - is coming from them.

Oh.

Perhaps the stories of angels are true? Uthvir does not see any wings, though. And the unknowns of the situation are enough to wake them up further.

“Who are you?” they ask.

The singing stops.

The unfamiliar person - woman? Elf? - looks as if she is about to answer. But then her head snaps up, and looks in a direction opposite them. When she looks back at them, what they can see of her expression is plainly anxious. Before they can respond, she snatches something up from the ground beside them, and flees.

Uthvir tries to sit up, to call after her. They are dizzy, though, and by the time their head stops swimming, they are just about ready to start coughing. Less than they might expect, from having been flung into the water. But enough to make their lungs burn and their ribs ache.

When they finally manage to look around again, their rescuer is gone.

But there is a boat pulling up to… an island?

A small island, it seems. The boat found them and brought them here? But, no, there is no sign of the mystery woman near the ship. And seemingly, no place for her to have gone, either. The trees on the little island offer next to no cover, and beyond that, there is only ocean. And further islands, scattered between this one and the largest.

Uthvir looks down at themselves. To their immense discomfort, they realize they have been stripped.

Well, whoever pulled them out of the water would have had a time with their armour. They suppose they cannot fault the person who saved their life. But there is no sign of it on the shore around them, either. By the time someone from the boat calls out to them, their skin is crawling.

“Ahoy there, mate!” an unfamiliar voice calls.

Uthvir takes a moment to scrutinize the ship. It is a small rowboat. Not one of the ones from Andruil’s ships - local, probably. Made or brought by the people who look after the island full-time. There are two elves aboard, and what looks like spear fishing gear. A common enough hobby of the island residents.

“You alright?” the stranger calls. Uthvir realizes, then, that they actually _do_  recognize him. He is one of the full-timers they hired to serve as a guide. Ven… Ven-something. Tall, dark hair, laughs at his own jokes.

“I… I washed… up…” Uthvir tries to call back, but their voice is weak, and another coughing fit seizes them.

The rowers call out again, and a moment later, they hear the thump of footsteps. When Ven… Vena? Vena-whoever slaps them on the back, they cannot fight off their flinch. At least the coughing disguises their cry, as everything in them seizes up in tension. That was the _last_  thing they needed, on top of all this.

But the man doesn’t do it again, at least. He _does,_ at length, help Uthvir to their feet and start guiding them towards the rowboat.

“You look like death turned over,” he notes. “What happened? How’d you get all the way out here?”

Uthvir manages a solid breath, and then tries to attempt speaking again.

“Washed ashore,” they say.

Vena’s friend - a little redheaded elf, another guide they recognize - helps them into the boat.

“There was a wreck?” she asks.

Uthvir shakes their head. And then reconsiders - there might have been, at some point afterwards. If Andruil kept on with her hunt.

“Not sure. I got knocked overboard,” they say, simply. “Sea serpent hunt. Things got hairy.”

Vena lets out a low whistle.

“Could they go any other way with that kind of hunt?” he wonders.

“Yes,” Uthvir says, but leaves it at that. The rowers don’t even ask if they would mind waiting for them to finish fishing; they just start back towards the main island. Offering Uthvir some water, and generally being about as good a rescue as they could hope for. Even if they, obviously, weren’t the ones to pull them out of the ocean.

It is probably a testament to how wretched they look. And feel.

When they get back to the main island, their secondary rescuers insist on seeing them to the healers. Uthvir doesn’t have much recourse, or even a sincere objection at this point. Although part of them just wants to find a secure place, lock the door, and be left in peace for a solid week. Andruil’s ship has still not returned from sea, and the sky is dark by the time they are inside the healing house. Which means either something befell them, or they went on with the hunt. Or, knowing the princess, both.

It is a frustrating sort of relief to have Andruil absent. At least it means they do not have to find out how set she is on seeing them dead. Not just yet, anyway.

People ask questions. As they often do.

Uthvir keeps their explanation simple. There was a hunt, they spotted a serpent. It proved too big. In the chaos of spells and spears and bucking waters, Uthvir was knocked overboard. That the princess knocked them overboard, they fail to mention. They do not bring up the spear they put through the serpent’s eye, either. If their luck holds, Andruil will be impressed enough that they survived - somehow - to forget the rest of it.

It wouldn’t be the first time, though this incident would probably take the cake.

People seem more concerned with how Uthvir got to shore. And that is a mystery to them, too. They consider lying - making some bold claim about swimming and lucky currents, perhaps - but…

Someone _did_  rescue them.

Someone who might come looking for a reward, at some point. And if they do, Uthvir plans to repay them.

“I do not remember much past hitting the water,” they admit to the town healer. A notorious gossip. “I woke up on the beach. There was someone there. I did not get a good look at them before they ran off, though. And I have no idea where they could have run _too._  The island was not big.”

The healer hums thoughtfully.

“It could have been a hallucination,” they say. “Sometimes the mind conjures up images to help cope with fraught situations.”

“Perhaps,” Uthvir allows.

“I think I’ll give you a sedative,” the healer concludes.

They don’t argue the point. But they hide the sedative under their tongue, and spit it into the trash outside when they are gone. Ironically, their nerves are too jarred to stomach the thought of being inhibited. The sedative probably _would_  help - in a sense. But they cannot bring themselves to take it, either. So they don’t. Instead they make their way back up to the palace, quickly as they can, to scrub the seawater from their skin and change into clothes that properly cover them.

They have to fend off a half dozen inquiries along the way. By the time they are alone in their room, with their thoughts, their hands are shaking so badly they cannot control it unless they clench fists. Alone, though, they lock the door and pace. Until they are finally too tired to keep going again, and collapse onto their bed.

The sound of singing lingers in their ears. Soft and haunting, but… sweet, too. Like the sort of lullabies that whales sing to their children at night. Out in the open sea, as they swim beneath silent ships and twinkling stars. They imagine they can almost hear it _again,_  just faintly. Through the open palace window, that overlooks the sea.

“I did not imagine it,” they murmur to themselves.

They know it is possible that they _did_ , of course. But it does not feel like it. The brush of hands upon their skin is too concrete a memory. So they fall asleep holding to the certainty of it. They did not dream their rescuer. However inexplicable she might be. _Someone_  pulled them out of the water. It is someone they owe a debt to.

Twice over, it might seem, when they wake the next morning to find that someone has left two pieces of their lost armour beneath their window.

Before the mystery can consume them, however, another matter takes precedence - Andruil’s ship has returned to port.


	3. Beached

It is all Aili can do to stay swimming just long enough to ensure that the fishermen get Red safely into their boat and begin heading back to shore. After that, she blearily paddles her way back to a relatively safe little cove on the Big Island, and promptly falls asleep on the sand. Exhausted, and relieved that her friend is back with their own kind, presumably receiving more help than she could offer them on her own.

She wakes several hours later, in the dead of night. The cove is not quite so secure that she can rest there safely until morning. She moves herself to the far side of the island, back towards her little treasure cave, and the clan's regular fishing grounds. She hunts a bit in order to eat and regain some of her energy, and then retreats to her cave for a little more sleep before the day begins, treating herself to a piece of fruit Red had given her several days ago as a reward for a hard day's work. It is a little soft by now, but still good. Fruit is much harder for them to get when the elves are at the island, and she does miss it.

Feeling less wrung out, her mind turns back to her friend. Is there anything more she could do for them? It is a great pity that she did not get the chance to try speaking to them, but perhaps it is just as well. It is one thing to risk her own safety, but it would not do to reveal the existence of her clan. She might be able to convince them that she was a lone wanderer, she does not know if elves have any knowledge of her species or their ways. That still seems like a dangerous gamble. She does not want to think that Red would purposely do something that would harm her people, but if word should somehow get back to Princess Malady…  

No. She cannot tell them what she is.

Still, she would like to keep an eye on them. Just to make certain that they are recovering properly, of course. She can ask for help from Curiosity with that, if they do not seem keen to return to the shoreline after their brush with death. She would not blame them, honestly.

Aili goes to find her friend, who is less than pleased at being woken up at this hour, but the little spirit quickly overcomes its grumpiness in favor of listening to the story of the sea serpent, and the daring rescue that followed. It seems fairly impressed by the whole affair, and Aili can admit that, in retrospect, it _was_ rather exciting. Curiosity agrees to try and find where Red lives in exchange for a few of the smaller treasures Aili has managed to procure over the years. Shiny trinkets that the spirit can use to adorn its own little nest.

It will likely take Curiosity several hours to figure out where her friend is staying while flying in its small parrot shape. In the meantime, Aili has a quest of her own.

She wants to find what she can of Red's coverings that she had to surrender to the waves.

Aili is a little concerned about returning to an area which has so recently had a sea serpent prowling through it, but it is close enough to the Big Island that it is much shallower than the beast's usual hunting ground, and a few preliminary sweeps seem to indicate that the monster has moved off. Unfortunately, there is less to be found of their gear than she had hoped. She manages to find one of the wrappings for their feet, one of the spikier bits that had gone over their shoulder, and the sharp covering for one of their hands. There might be more of it scattered around on the sea floor, but the sky is beginning to lighten, and she's not sure she could fit much more into her little satchel that she brought.

By the time she makes it back to the Big Island, it is nearly dawn. Curiosity has found Red sleeping in the Big House where Princess Malady lives, which makes a certain amount of sense, though it does present a few extra challenges. Although the house is somewhat separated from the rest of the village and Red's room in particular overlooks a stretch of beach, which is good, actually getting close to the building requires getting through walls and fences, and likely other securities that Aili would have a hard time with in her seal shape. And she does not dare to use her other shape in such an open area where anyone who happened to glance out towards the water might see her. Curiosity offers to carry the satchel and the recovered items back to their owner, but it proves to be a bit more than it can manage. So, Aili pulls out the hand covering as a sort of keepsake, while the spirit flies of to take care of the delivery.

It is her favorite piece, to be honest. It looks like a claw, but there is something almost delicate about it, too. Shifting briefly out of her seal form, she slides her own hand into it, flexing her fingers and admiring the subtle swirls and patterns embossed onto its surface. It is a beautiful thing. And Red will no doubt be missing it. But perhaps she can give it back later. Once she's located the rest of their gear.

Maybe.

Morning comes, and as she retreats once more to safer waters, she catches sight of the big ship making its way homeward. There is a sea serpent strapped to one side of it. Much smaller than the one they had fought with while Aili was chasing them. The scales are a pale green, and it only has a single horn left on its head. An old serpent, by the looks of it. But one that still managed to put up a good fight, if the damage to the ship is any indication.

For Aili's part, she finds the whole thing rather sad. She hopes that whatever purpose they find for the beast's body was worth their struggle, as well as the serpent's life. If nothing else, perhaps the Princess will be a little less angry than she had seemed before they left.

She sort of doubts it, though.

In the days that follow, Aili finds that her interests have shifted from wanting to learn more about elves in general, to wanting to learn more about Red. Who do they spend their time with? What do they do for fun? What foods do they like?

Unfortunately, she does not see them leave the Big House for many days. She begins to worry that perhaps she did not do such a good job at healing their wounds as she had thought. But then they finally reemerge at the Princess' side. Grim-faced and a bit pale, perhaps, but walking steadily and attending to the Princess as they usually do. She keeps watch from a distance but does not dare approach them with so many of their fellows about.

She has been gathering more of their gear from the ocean.

She has almost all of it now. Or at least, she thinks so. It would be far too much for Curiosity to carry to them, however, and Aili finds that she wants to see the expression on their face when they get it back.

Will they be happy? Worried? Pensive?

Once they begin to spend time alone out in the open again, Aili makes her move. She waits until they are preoccupied with something else, and sneaks a piece of their gear up onto the beach. By a rock or a tree. Sitting there as though it has been waiting for them.

It becomes like a game. One that is almost opposite of their previous encounters, with her creeping after them to leave them things instead of taking them away. She does not know if they ever spot her doing it. She keeps to her seal shape, regardless, but every time they find one of her offerings, they look around with an expression of general wonderment before scouring the area for any signs of who might have left the treasure behind.

She almost likes it more than stealing.

They almost catch her at it a few times, though. Red is very good at tracking things, after all. And some part of her almost _wants_ them to catch her. The more she watches them, the more questions she has for them, the more she wants to know about who they are and where they might come from. She is almost certain that they would not harm her, and she is burning with inquiry, but the warnings of Deshanna and the Elders ring loudly in her ears, and she finds herself fraught with indecision.

When she follows them into one of the wilder wooded areas with the intention of returning the heavy covering that had gone over their chest, one of the last things of theirs she has left, Aili needs change her shape to climb up through the trees after them. She makes more noise than she intended to, rustling through bushes and snapping a few twigs here and there. She does not think too much of it, until peering around a tree trunk and seeing Red staring back at her.

Aili panics.

She drops their gear, turns on her heel, and makes a mad dash back through the forest. Red is not far behind her, forcing their way through the thick underbrush and shouting after her. She does not know what they might be saying, threats or pleas. She does not try to retrace her steps down the gentle slope to the sea. Instead, she hurries to a nearby cliff edge overlooking a deep lagoon.

It is a safe dive, but a daunting one to someone who has not braved it before, and Aili doubts that Red will follow her down into the water. She pauses for a moment, torn once again between the desire to know them and the fear of captivity. Red breaks through the tree line a few seconds later, and she reacts on instinct.

Aili jumps, falling down and down, pulling her seal cloak up over her shoulders just before she hits the water.

She dares to take one glance back up at the cliff before swimming off. Red is standing there, no doubt looking for the person they saw plunge into the water. She takes a deep breath and dives below the surface, so they cannot see her leave. It makes her sad for reasons that she cannot quite put her finger on, but she thinks she probably should not follow them again.

Perhaps it would not be so bad if she kept the red hand covering after all. They seem to have more than just the one pair of them, so they must not be too difficult to come by. And some small part of her thinks that she might deserve it, just a little, for saving them from drowning.

After all, the big ship won't stay here forever, and Aili thinks that she would like to have something to remember them by.  

~

Uthvir is obsessed.

They are bold enough to admit it. Between the mysteriously reappearing scraps of armour, and the lovely stranger who flung herself into the sea, they feel as if they are being haunted by a strange and captivating ghost. One who, it seems, has either just drowned herself, or who can swim to a truly fantastical degree. One who pulled them from the ocean, and somehow retrieved their gear from it - or at least most of it - and one who fled at the first call of their voice.

It is possible that nearly drowning has had more of an effect than they expected, though. But it is almost enough to distract them from Andruil’s lingering displeasure.

The princess does not, at least, fling them back into the sea. Although it is a near thing. She takes blood as penance, and a few other things, too, before she finally decides on their ‘proper’ punishment, for costing her a hunt.

She also takes a great interest in their story of survival, though.

“Your ‘mystery rescuer’,” she mentions a few times afterwards, with mockery in her tone and daggers in her eyes. “Some island nymph, hm? I suppose she imagines herself due a great reward. Won’t she be surprised to find that her actions stood in defiance of my will.”

Uthvir recollects the shock on her face when they were flung overboard. But they opt not to mention it.

“I highly doubt she had any idea of who she was rescuing,” they say. “She probably just believed herself to be saving a fool from a serpent hunt.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be far from the truth, now, would it?” Andruil agrees. Then she lets out a long sigh. “I suppose it would be unfair to punish someone just for that. A good deed done out of the kindness and ignorance of their heart. Though any soul presumptuous enough to come looking for rewards will get their just repayment for the fullness of their interference.”

Uthvir inclines their head.

They suppose, in the end, there may be no need to wonder why their rescuer would prefer discretion. Though if the common folk know their princess’s predilections so well by now, then marrying her off may be even more challenging than her parents already suspect.

If their rescuer _does_  come forward, they can only hope they do not seek out Andruil. They decide not to mention the woman they have glimpsed, and one time chased.

The matter of their punishment, though, forces them away from their new preoccupation.

“You lost me my prey. I expect you to find it for me again,” the princess decides. “Not that you could take it down yourself. As we have already ascertained. But I want that serpent. I want it tracked, I want to know what waters it calls home.”

“The beast will be in the depths for some time,” Uthvir must point out.

Andruil fixes them with a cold look.

“Then you had best perfect the art of underwater tracking,” she tells them. “Because if you do not find it again before we leave this wretched place, then I will send you to the depths myself. Again.”

Uthvir bows in acknowledgement.

“I will find it,” they promise.

And subsequently, when they manage to escape to their chambers, attempt not to panic. Because they have no idea _how._  

That serpent feels like nearly as much of a dream as their rescuer. And it is surely still a great danger. Now that Andruil has her heart set on it, the matter will likely only end with its death. Or hers. For once, Uthvir is not so certain who stands the better odds in that scenario. Predator or prey. They pace the floor of their room, and force their thoughts into order. Trying to think of the best means of tracking the creature down again. Of course, they could always just offer Andruil a region, and hope for the best. The longer she went without catching the creature, though, the more fraught things will become for them. Unless they find her another distraction, but they do not think this one will leave her thoughts in a hurry.

Their best option, they decide, will be to take a small scouting ship out. At night, when an injured serpent will be more likely to surface in search of food. They buy some night vision tonics, to help them see. And set out the first night after Andruil tasks them with the hunt. Loading a small ship with a few provisions, and going alone.

Or so they mean to. As they row out, though, a strange blue parrot alights onto their boat.

It watches them. Uthvir waits for it to fly off again, surprised to see a bird out and about so late at night. It takes its time doing it, though. Looking around for long enough that they wonder if it is dazed, or injured somehow, before it finally wings off into the twilight.

Yet more of the strange sort of wonderment to the island.

They get another glimpse of it once they have rowed out of the cove, where the smaller ships leave by. Then they look down at the water, and find it filled with stars. And not just reflections from the darkening sky. Uthvir takes their first night vision tonic, and sees that the sea-stars are actually jellyfish. Hoards and hoards of them, buzzing like fireflies around the edges of the boat, and spreading out into the depths of the sea. They swim lazily out of range of Uthvir’s paddles. Puffing out skirt-like bodies, and even letting loose a few tiny bursts of magical energy. It makes the air taste very clean, and makes the water sparkle.

With their enhanced sight, the smaller islands loom like slumped over giants.

They are utterly taken aback when a seal pulls up alongside their little boat, and opens its mouth, and swallows down a mouthful of the tiny jellies. Uthvir pauses. They let their oars go slack a moment, while the seal bobs up from below the surface of the water. The shape of its body looks dark against the glowing jellies, but they recognize it all the same.

“Oh,” they say. “It is you. The trash thief.”

The seal blinks. And then it nudges the side of the boat.

“You should not be coming so close to people,” they remind the creature. But nevertheless, find themselves fishing around for something they could give it. They let go of an oar to fetch a piece of fruit from their pack, but have to grab it again when the seal closes its mouth around it.

“No, no,” they say. “Don’t take that.”

The seal does not let go, though. Uthvir sighs, and wonders if they should try nudging it away with the other oar. Or maybe throwing something else into the water. The seal tugs, stronger than they might have expected. The rowboat is pulled slightly to one side. But right when they are wondering if maybe a flash spell would startle it into letting go, it does. Pausing a moment to bark at them, before moving to the front of the boat, and then butting it with its head.

As if it is trying to push them in the opposite direction. Back towards shore.

It probably isn’t, though. Uthvir cannot fathom a reason for it do such a thing. It is probably just playing, they decide. Seeing how far it can nudge their boat to and fro. They get their oars back in place, and start rowing outwards again instead. Shooing the seal with a gentle stroke from one.

“You go back to eating your jellyfish,” they admonish. “I am on a hunt, and it is not safe for the likes of you.”

_Or me._

The seal barks at them again. It is just their imagination, of course, but it almost sounds irritated. A moment later, though, it dips back under the water. And they can see the dark shape of it chasing down jellyfish, and munching on them whole. As they row further out, the seal keeps pace. They notice it seems to like the jellies that make magic the best. Every one it gobbles is in the middle of producing little puffs of spellwork.

After about fifteen minutes of hunting, the seal turns its attention back to the boat.

“Shoo,” Uthvir says, as it comes up again. “I told you before-”

The seal clamps its mouth down on the same oar, before they can finish their sentence, and abruptly starts _dragging_  their boat back to shore.

Uthvir grips the oar tightly, not eager to be stranded. But they are shocked at the animal’s sudden burst of strength, and its baffling determination, as it deliberately swims backwards and tugs them along. They can taste the buzz of magic in the air, and see a faint glow around its teeth, where they dig grooves into the wood of the oar.

“Stop that! Stop! You silly creature, let go!” they say, but on balance, it doesn’t seem wise to offer up much more than a sharp tone of disapproval. Animals and magic can be an unpredictable combination; and if the seal decides to bite a hole through their _boat,_  matters will become infinitely worse. Not to mention what It could do if it hopped into their ship. Becoming fond of the creature was clearly a bad idea, but Uthvir still doesn’t think they would like to hurt the curious animal.

After a few minutes, they sigh, and resign themselves to its games. Or what they can only assume are games. The seal itself seems very determined as it pulls them back to the cove, and does not let up until they are no longer in sight of the glowing jellies.

At which point, it bites their oar in half.

“Hey!” Uthvir exclaims.

The seal darts back under the water, and disappears again.

Leaving Uthvir with one working oar, and one split piece of tinder.

They wonder if eating glowing jellyfish has some kind of hallucinogenic effect on seals. Or maybe it’s the magic that does that. With an aggrieved sigh, they manage to use their good oar to get back to the dock.

The next night, they head out with sturdier oars. The same odd bird alights onto their boat, and watches them for a while. And then it flies off. The jellies appear again, but Uthvir tries to steer around them instead. Keeping a sharp eye out. Not just for mischievous seals, but for larger shapes moving in the water, amid the glow of the creatures. Magical prey would make an appealing target for an injured sea serpent. But while they do see a fair few large shapes, gobbling up the jellyfish, none are serpent-shaped.

They are moving around one of the small island, keeping to the fringes of the jelly swarm, when a familiar shape pops up beside their boat again.

Quick as they can, they pull the oars in.

“Not _you_  again,” they say, to the seal.

It blinks at them, and seems somehow equally annoyed, as it lifts its head up and barks at them.

“No. I am not here to play games,” they insist.

The seal starts trying to push their boat towards the island. Uthvir lets off a flash spell, to try and discourage it. But it doesn’t even seem startled, only lifting its head and barking at them in reprimand, as a swarm of jellyfish rush towards the boat. Drawn by the light, perhaps. The seal keeps pushing at the boat, and Uthvir keeps attempting to shoo it.

Until they see a large, dark shape begin to part the jellyfish.

Heading towards them.

A very, _very_ large dark shape.

Uthvir cannot say what possesses them to reach into the water, and scoop a dangerous and unstable animal up out of it, and into their boat. Some stray whim, that odd fondness, perhaps even a slew of confused instincts insisting that the animal pushing at their ship might attract the attention of the massive creature. But they do it, reaching down too quick to think twice, and pulling an armload of wet, wriggling seal out of the sea.

To their imminent relief, the seal does not struggle or bite them. It does flail a little - mostly out of surprise. And it seems like it might bark. But then it goes still, as Uthvir deposits it into the boat. And all the waters around them go black. The jellyfish move in odd swirls. Like something is sucking them in, Uthvir realizes. The waters sway, and the boat rocks. They reach for their spear, while the seal stares at the water, and seems to tremble in sudden fright.

A pair of large, dark shapes rise up out of the waves on either side of the rowboat.

Horns, Uthvir realizes.

Their mouth goes dry.

Well… well.

It seems the serpent did not go far at all.

They hold their breath. Well aware of how small their boat is, and how vast the distance between those two rising horns are. Is it the same serpent, they wonder? They can only see the tips of two horns, but something in their gut tells them it might be. The seal seems to hold its breath too, as the points dip down beneath the waves. Silent. The long dark stretches after them, though. Long, and long, until Uthvir is not certain if the body is still passing beneath them. Or if it has devoured so many jellyfish that there are none to swim back up towards the boat.

Eventually, though, the little seal beside the stops trembling.

Uthvir regards it. And for a moment a feeling passes between them, of the sort that can only be shared by two creatures who have just narrowly escaped a predator they both know is well beyond their means.

If the seal seems disinclined to get back into the water, Uthvir cannot blame it.

They themselves wait until a few softly glowing jellies reappear at last, before dipping their oars back into the water. And rowing carefully back along the fringes of the glowing swarm, as the seal sits in their boat and Uthvir pretends none of this is as strange or terrifying as it really is. At least until they get back to the cove. Then they pause, and catch their breath. The waters here are too shallow for a serpent of that size. They run a hand down their face, and finally take another look at their unexpected passenger.

The seal stares back. Something distinctly reproachful in its gaze.

“I had no choice,” they say. “The princess commanded it.”

The comment produces a head tilt, and a snort.

And then the seal jumps over the side of their boat, and into the waters of the cove.

Uthvir’s nerves are still jangling by the time they make it ashore again.

~

After her near brush with death, Aili immediately returns to her clan. The scouts have been bringing back warnings that fish have been scarce for the past few days, and other animals seem to be fleeing. They had suspected that a serpent or some other large, dangerous predator must have arrived in their waters, and now they know for certain. Deshanna and the other elders hold a meeting, and quickly come to the decision that Aili knew they would: they will evacuate the Big Island. For now, at least. Outside of the obvious concern that they themselves will become prey for the beast, between the gigantic serpent and the excess of elves on the island, there is simply not enough food to go around.

Even Aili can admit that there is wisdom in leaving for a while. Or at least, for her clan to go. They have elders and pups to be thinking of, after all. But Aili still has something to take care of before she can vacate the Big Island for safer shores.

“You realize that this is completely insane,” Curiosity informs her from its perch up in a nearby tree.

“They don’t listen to me when I’m a seal," Aili explains for what feels like the hundredth time, laying down a bundle of random garments she has pilfered from village clotheslines and seaside picnics over the years, "What else am I supposed to do?"

"Write them a strongly worded letter?" Curiosity suggests, "Maybe make an illustrative drawing about gruesome deaths involving sea serpents? At any rate, I am fairly certain that your friend is aware of the risks involved in going hunting for big monsters in tiny row boats. Giving away your secret is not going to do anything except get you into some sort of mess that I will likely have to fish you out of later."

"They… I do not believe they would tell," Aili says, although her expression scrunches up into one of lingering doubts, "Besides, the clan is leaving today, so they will be far away and safe with the Sabre Clan. I am only putting myself at risk. If they try anything funny, all I have to do is wait for chance to put my cloak back on and swim away."

"Through serpent-infested waters," Curiosity points out.

"Look, are you going to help me figure out how to wear these or not?" Aili huffs at her friend, folding her arms across her chest.

"Alright, alright," the spirit sighs in resignation, "I think the most common one is the light green one over there. It goes on the top half of your body."

Aili picks up the article of clothing and holds it up for inspection. It looks as though it is likely to be quite large on her, but that's fine. She does not need to look beautiful, she simply wishes to…blend in a bit more, as it were.

"What are the two long floppy holes for?" she wonders, "Arms?"

"Yes," Curiosity confirms, "And the little bumpy dots go through the holes along the other side of the open bit. That's how you hold it closed."

Aili has a good deal of trouble with any sort of fastening, especially with since the arm holes are almost comically long on her. Her hands keep getting lost in them, and it almost feels like she has flippers again. But she manages a few. Enough that the front of the garment does not flap open constantly.

"Is this enough?" She asks, turning around for inspection.

"Hm," Curiosity replies, tilting its head at her, "Most elves wear something on the bottom half, too. I mean, you have a covering, but it doesn't look like anything I've seen them wear."  

"Well…what about this one?" Aili says, holding up a white voluminous garment. It is partially divided in two, with three obvious holes, one big and two long and floppy, and cut along the edge in such a way that might be meant to resemble flower petals. "I think I have seen the workers on the docks wearing something that was close to this shape. This looks a bit more…poofy, though."

“Maybe it is for fancy parties or something,” Curiosity suggests.

Aili nods in agreement, contemplating the item in question for a few moments before making an attempt to put it on. It turns out to be more challenging than anticipated. She is not certain what part of her body is supposed to go through what hole. There is a great deal of flailing and falling over, and laughter from Curiosity as she tries to work it out.

“I think you have finally got it,” Curiosity praises when she finally gets it on over her legs in a manner that does not immediately send her tumbling to the ground, still somewhat breathless with mirth.

“I think I like it!” Aili grins, “It feels sort of…floaty? It tickles my legs when I move, like seaweed in a current.”

She does an experimental twirl, which makes the garment fall down around her knees. She grabs it up quickly before it can trip her again. Curiosity snorts.

“Perhaps you should tie it on with something,” it suggests.

In the end, that is precisely what she does. Aili knots a vine about her waist and rolls the top part of her white bottom garment over it. She also rolls up the ends of the arm holes on her top so she can use her hands better. She’s not quite certain what she looks like by elf standards, but she feels a bit…flappy.  And precarious. It seems like a lot of work just to walk around with people.

Never the less, she is properly attired now, and she marches determinedly down to the little cove that Red has been docking their boat in. The sun is already beginning to set, and if tonight is anything like the last two, they should be arriving soon. She finds their ship and stubbornly plants herself on the bench near the oars, carefully folding up her seal cloak and tucking it under the seat with the last piece of their armor. Proof of why they should listen to her and an escape route if she finds she needs one.

Red takes longer than they have the previous nights, and by the time she hears rustling in the underbrush approaching, night has fallen, and Aili is beginning to nod off a bit.

The sound is enough to snap her awake, though. She jumps to her feet, standing ramrod straight in the little ship, tense and quivering. Excited and a little afraid all at once.

A figure steps out onto the beach, and her breath catches.

“Gu… Gud moornin’,” Aili sounds out slowly, shifting her weight a bit and twiddling with her fingers.

“Good…morning?” Red parrots back uncertainly.

Aili beams at them, not at all put off by their tone. They are likely just surprised to see her out in the open like this, which is understandable. She is far too elated by the fact that she has apparently said something that they seem to have understood.

And then she takes note of the spear in their hand. The net slung over one shoulder. The hard coverings over their form -like the ones from the day she had pulled them out of the ocean.

Aili’s mood sours instantly to one of barely contained frustration. How many times does she have to stop them from getting themselves killed?

“No!” she barks out, baring her teeth slightly and stamping her foot, “No to be… to being… No ship at sea! A big… Big fish eats…ate…ateing! No to been gone!”

“A big fish?” Red blinks at her, slowly taking a few steps closer.  

Aili sighs and moves her arm back and forth in a serpentine motion.

“The sea serpent?” they check. She nods emphatically.

“Big eats,” she repeats for emphasis. She points out to the open sea nearby, “Close. Now to going home. No ocean. No…no sir- _pants_.”

"But I have to," Red replies in a tone that sounds at least somewhat apologetic, now close enough to put one foot onto the side of the ship, "The Princess has ordered me to track it."

Aili does not understand the whole of what they said, but the idea that they still intend to board their boat and go to sea is not lost on her. She scowls at them and puts her hands on their chest lightly, gently but firmly pushing them back from the ship. She gets the impression that they are humoring her, letting her guide them backwards up the beach a few steps. Out of the vessel and onto the sand.

"On the beach," she says resolutely, still not taking her hands from them, "Stay."

Very carefully, Red reaches up and takes her by the wrists, pulling her hands away. Their touch lingers for a moment before they withdraw, but they do not step away from her either. It is only then that Aili notices just how close together they happen to be standing. It is dark out, but the moon is bright enough to paint the edges of their features. The dark intensity of their gaze.

She swallows thickly.

"Who are you?" they ask quietly, "What is your name?"

 Her brow furrows in confusion and she shakes her head at them. Understanding that there was a question, but not what it was about. She shifts her weight from foot to foot. Uneasy.

Red makes a face at her silence, but after a moment they lift a hand and point a finger at themselves.

"My name is Uthvir," they tell her slowly, "Uth-vir."

"Uth- _vir_?"she tries. Red nods encouragingly, so she repeats it to herself. " _Uth_ -vir."

They give her an expectant look. It takes her a few seconds to cotton on, but then she mimics their gesture. Pointing up at her face.

"Aili," she tells them, grinning at them once again, "Ai-li."

" _Aili_ ," they repeat warmly, rolling her name off of their tongue in such a way that makes the blood rush to her face. Which is…confusing. She fiddles with the ends of her shirt holes, uncertain how to respond.

"Are you the one who retrieved my armor for me?" Uthvir asks after a few beats of silence, "Did you re-"

They are cut off by the sound of muffled voices. Footsteps crunching through the underbrush nearby. The soft light of torches moving through the trees.

" _Red?_ " Aili murmurs nervously, slipping back into her native tongue. Taking a step forward and reaching for them on instinct.

"Get out of here!" Uthvir hisses at her, lightly shoving her away. When she freezes in sudden confusion, they make a desperate shooing motion at her. "Run!"

A twig snaps. Several elves step out of the woods. A dark one with cold golden eyes catches her gaze.

Aili turns and flees into the wilds as fast as her legs will carry her, leaving her seal cloak behind.

~

Uthvir panics when Andruil nearly happens on them talking to the strange woman by the cove.

Their rescuer, it seems. Not naked this time, at least, but dressed in the most bizarre outfit they could possibly imagine. A green button-down jacket pulled over fluffy bloomers, neither sized to fit her, and from the looks of things no underclothes either. Her hair is a mess of curls and her words are stilted, spoken with the awkwardness of someone still learning the language.

And something about her eyes looks very familiar.

Though Uthvir supposes it’s because they _have_ seen them before. When she rescued them from the sea.

But then the princess is coming, and before they can think the better of it, they warn their rescuer off. Heart suddenly hammering at the thought and the timing. For Andruil to be here, _now,_ is unexpected in and of itself. That she should come right when they are finally…

Well.

Uthvir does not intend to get so close to solving a mystery only to have it killed by their bloodthirsty princess.

Their rescuer requires little prompting to flee. Taking off in almost worrying haste towards the trees, but still not fast enough to avoid catching the princess’ sight. Uthvir feels their own heart sink, just briefly. Worried at the implications of what could happen, but also, frustrated at having come so close only to see the strange young woman vanish again. Her bizarre clothes flapping out behind her, as her hands disappear into the sleeves of her jacket, and her bloomers nearly fall down.

And yet, once she is in the trees near the cove, she seems to all but vanish.

A moment of stunned silence follows.

“What the _hell?”_ Andruil finally asks.

Uthvir turns towards the princess, and musters up their best look of confusion.

“I have no idea, my lady,” they say. “I think some local vagabond wandered down to watch the jellyfish. There are some odd types in the village. Beggars, and madmen, and suchlike.”

The princess regards them for a moment.

“Did I not hear that the figure who rescued you was fair-haired?” she says.

Uthvir shrugs.

“Well, yes,” they agree. “But also an accomplished swimmer and rescuer. That little urchin could hardly dress, I somehow doubt she managed to survive both ocean and island travel to fortuitously pluck me from the sea.”

That seems to work, at least, as some of the suspicion drops from the princess’ gaze.

Uthvir’s own eyes alight, then, upon something unexpected. A familiar shock of fur, lying not far from where they had first seen their rescuer approach them. It is a force of effort not to stare, and give away the direction of their gaze. They look at Andruil, instead, as the princess straightens and breathes out through her nose.

“I did not come all this way for dalliances with random beggars,” she decides. “You told me you have found the serpent’s hunting grounds. Show me.”

“As you wish,” Uthvir complies. “But we have no ship nor supplies ready for another hunt yet.”

“I am well aware,” she snaps, impatiently. “I want to see, for myself, that the proof you have found is sufficient. Your skills have been… disappointing, of late.”

Ignoring the jab, they offer an appeasing bow.

“Of course,” they agree.

And then, of all the rotten, awful luck, Andruil takes an assessing look at her surroundings. And her own sharp gaze does not fail her, as she looks at the patch of fur which Uthvir has been desperately trying not to.

“What is that?” she asks.

“Ah, that is… mine,” Uthvir asserts, in a hasty decision. They move towards the bundle, and try not to let their heart sink.

Perhaps… perhaps, they think, there are more seals in the region that have this shade of fur. But they cannot think so, as they gather up what is undeniably a full seal pelt.

Wrapped around what they glimpse as the last missing piece of their armour.

“Spoils of a hunt,” they admit. “A chance encounter while I was scouting. A seal leapt into my boat.”

Their mind turns, at once, to their ridiculous decision to pluck that mischievous creature out of the waters beside their scouting vessel. Not so long ago. The fur feels warm against their fingers. It seems to make the moment worse than they might have guessed, as it gives the impression that it was only just taken. They wonder how their rescuer managed to skin a seal so neatly, when she seems so otherwise… peculiar.

A question for another time.

They knew it was foolhardy to become fond of a beast.

”A seal pelt?” Andruil asks, looking at the bundle. “It is a pretty colour. Give it to me.”

Uthvir swallows.

But of course, they bow.

“It is yours,” they agree. “I shall have it sent up to the palace, after our scouting is done.”

Satisfied, the princess nods, and then begins making her way to the boats docked at the cove. Uthvir takes an opportunity to sneak the piece of their armour out of the bundle, and stow it in among some of the dock supplies. They tuck the seal pelt gently under their seat on the boat, where it will be safe, and take up the oars. As Andruil dismisses her accompaniment, and settles into the available space across from them. The dark fur of her evening cloak ripples with the wind, as they set out towards the serpent’s hunting grounds.

“Are you certain it is the same beast?” Andruil asks them.

“No,” Uthvir admits, spotting the trap. There would be no way to be _completely_ certain, unless they saw the wounded eye; and the princess well knows that. “I have only seen the tips of its horns. But if it is a different serpent, then it is one of like kind.”

She accepts the answer, to their relief, with only a slight twitch of her lips.

“I suppose that still makes for a promising lead,” she permits.

Uthvir is glad when the bird that usually flies out to see them rowing does not make its trip this time. They almost shake their head at themselves, when they clear the cove with a note of relief in their tight-feeling chest.

When did they become so stupid?

Getting fond of the local prey, and nearly getting killed by Andruil, when they could have simply kept themselves to themselves. Let the serpent destroy the ship; they could have reached the life boats. Let the blame for a botched hunt fall on someone else. Even though it was their idea for a distraction to begin with.

They should not seek out this rescuer of their again, either.

Let them be lucky enough to avoid Andruil’s ire as their reward.

“You are brooding,” Andruil informs them.

“I am rowing,” Uthvir counters.

She raises an eyebrow.

“Are you saying I’m wrong?” she asks, though without _quite_ as much looming threat as she has generally employed for the last few days.

“My apologies, princess, but it would be impossible for me to brood while enjoying the pleasure of your company. So it stands to reason that on this, you must be,” they insist, matching her lighter tone.

She snorts at them. Her golden eyes catch some of the fading sunlight.

“Are you afraid of this serpent?” she wonders. “I have heard some of them can be quite smart, you know. Perhaps it would recognize the hunter who blinded one of its eyes.”

“Perhaps,” they permit.

An unpleasant thought, to be certain. Uthvir’s nerves jangle, just a little. They find some terrified corner of their brain, that has been gibbering like an upset lemur since they laid eyes on that serpent, has no trouble believing such a thing.

But in the end, if the serpent would remember anything, it would probably be the ship itself. Far more like another creature of the sea, than the strange, gangly parasites hanging off of its topside. Andruil seems to be enjoying her black humour, though; so they opt not to say so.

Thankfully, they lapse into silence at that point. And as the glowing jellies start to come out, they arrest Andruil’s attention. She leans over the side of the boat. There not as many now as there had been before, but still enough that when the princess dips a gloved hand into the water, she can easily scoop one out of it. Watching the little creature spasm and let out a few puffs of magic, that fizzle and crack more dramatically in the air than in the water.

When it dies, it goes dull and flat and slimy.

Andruil makes a face, and casts it back into the sea.

“What odd little creatures,” she murmurs.

“Their magic probably makes them interesting prey,” Uthvir replies, keeping their own eyes on the shadows that part the glowing waters.

The princess’s own hunting instincts take over as they row, silently. And the sky grows darker still, until they can see all the vast tapestry of stars in the night sky above, and hear a distant sound. Haunting. Like horns trumpeting, almost - but this far out, and with the direction it is coming from, they think it is more likely the call of some strange whale.

And then, in the distance, they spot the jellies beginning to go dark. In great swaths, the lines of which are broken only once by the rise of a single coil above the tranquil sea. They point, and Andruil stares.

There is nary a ripple.

But the ever-vanishing swaths of jellyfish make their every hair stand on end.

They let the boat drift where it is, holding their breath through the silence. The princess gazes, intent, and then hungry, and then sharp like a predator as she begins to lean out over the edge of the boat. Staring. Caught in the grips of the same desire that had stolen her wits on the big ship. The need to kill this creature; to prove which of them is the mightier, and prevail. Her hand grips the side of the boat tightly. White-knuckled, until the shadows draw close enough that Uthvir cannot chance it any longer, and begins to row them back towards the cove.

The princess is silent. And they cannot tell if her frame is taught with fury or anticipation or possibly… possibly even fear.

Though fear has never taken a sensible shape in her.

She does not look at them until they have docked again. And then the anger is back in her eyes. Cold and furious.

“I still cannot believe you cost me such a trophy,” she says.

Uthvir bows their head.

They are expecting the blow. The sound of the princess’s fist hitting their cheek echoes over the gleaming night waters. So does the second, along with the sting of one of her rings splitting the skin of their cheekbone.

She grabs their chin, afterwards, and turns their head towards her. Locking her gaze to their own.

“I don’t like being so furious with you, pet,” she assures them. Lips tight, and eyes still hard. Her other hand brushes their hair, before she sighs, and lets them go.

“I suppose we shall just have to fix it,” she decides. “And you _did_ find it again. Yes. We will fix this; I will have my prey, and _you…_ you will have my forgiveness.”

She leans back. Uthvir almost thinks the serpent has driven everything else from her mind. But then her gaze flits down to the bench they are on, and to what is beneath it. Their grip on the oars tightens as the princess reaches beneath their seat, and pulls out the seal pelt bundled safely there. Her hands card through the fur a moment. Turning it over, as she lets out another breath.

It is a whole piece, they marvel themselves. Taken in one; quite expertly, by the looks of it.

After a moment, the princess says so herself.

“At least not _all_ your skills are gone,” she says; and then throws it over one shoulder, and exits the boat.

Uthvir watches her go.

And then they find themselves waiting for a long moment, afterwards. They are not even certain what for, until they find themselves scanning the shoreline. Looking for any trace of smaller animals, chasing the nighttime prey. Any sign of a small, tawny head breaking the surface of the water. And large, purple eyes staring at them - probably planning on stealing one of their oars again.

But there is nothing.

Just silence.

And then a scream.

Uthvir is out of the boat in a hurry. Some irrational instinct thinking it must be the princess - or the princess’ doing - as they make their way towards the sound. It came from the forest alongside the cove, they realize. Their night vision potion is still working, and they have only just begun to recollect that sometimes big cats scream like elves when they come down the edge of a large incline, and see…

Their rescuer.

And one of Andruil’s entourage, an elf that had first accompanied her to the cove - Stalking, is his name - lying on the ground before her, with a sharp stick jutting from his shoulder and a dirty foot pinning his stomach. His hands grip the stick, and Uthvir suspects they know the source of the scream as he tries desperately to dislodge his attacker.

Their small, strange rescuer has lost her clothes, and her temper by the looks of it. Her gaze is hard as she holds the stick and hisses at the hunter.

_“ **No** ,”_ she says, in a tone which implies she has said it before, quite recently.

Given what they know of Stalking’s proclivities, and the situation before them, they do not need to stretch their imagination to guess what happened. After they left with the princess, the hunter decided to go after an easy mark. A fair few of the locals have complained about him already, albeit only through gossip. But it has probably gotten harder for him to find a target.

Uthvir raises their hands, as they make their way over. Their rescuer looks up; and Stalking seizes the opportunity to finally knock her off balance. Wrenching the stick from his wounded shoulder, and her hands, and then moving to pin _her_ to the ground.

Uthvir grabs him by the back of his jacket and wrenches him to his feet instead. Ignoring the subsequent cry of pain as the move pulls on his injured shoulder.

“Just _what_ are you doing?” they demand.

“The madwoman attacked me!” he snarls at them, as said ‘madwoman’ looks at Uthvir with unaccountable relief, before hurrying away. She hides herself behind a nearby tree.

“Why is she naked?” they ask.

“I found her that way!” Stalking insists. “I was only trying to see if she needed help!”

“Va… _visha!”_ their rescuer counters, pointing accusingly at him. “No be do! Uthvir, no be do!”

Her gaze flits to them momentarily, and then back at Stalking. She bares her teeth, and makes a distinctive stabbing motion.

“You see?!” Stalking rails, before wincing. “Uthvir, for gods sakes, let me go! I’m _wounded!”_

They hesitate. But then do let him go, pushing him pointedly towards the incline they came down by.

“Go back to the village,” they say. “Get a healer to look at that.”

“Just as soon as I take care of this little-”

“No,” they snap, moving to block his line of sight. “You get cornered by a tiny beggar woman in the woods and she gets the jump on you, that’s an embarrassment to all of us. The princess will have you jettisoned from her escort in disgrace. You back to town, tell them some very large, angry, drunken sailors stabbed you, and leave the rest of this mess to me.”

Stalking looks like he is going to argue.

Uthvir reaches over, and grabs his injured shoulder, and _squeezes_.

The hunter falls to his knees with another anguished cry.

They lean in closer. The mood of the evening has brought their blood up, and not in a good way.

“You do as I say, or that shoulder is never going to properly heal,” they warn. Phrasing it like advice, but making sure it still sounds like a threat.

Stalking gives them one more look, before staggering back onto his feet. White-faced and sweating, now, as he staunches the bleeding on his shoulder, and noisily makes his retreat. Uthvir watches him go. Their hand wet with his blood, and an odd fury lingering in their chest.

A soft sound of leaves being stepped on draws their attention back to reality.

Their odd, naked rescuer, steps tentatively out from behind her tree. At least being naked makes it easy to confirm that she isn’t injured, apart from some bruises on her arm.

She stares at them a moment.

Her own gaze moves to the split bruise on their cheek. She frowns, as she folds her arms, and then points at their face.

“Ow?” she asks.

Uthvir clears their throat. After a moment, they nod.

“Ow,” they confirm, before shaking their head at themselves. “Are you alright?”

Their rescuer - they have a name for her, they recollect once more. A name to put to the face, and the eyes. Aili. Aili tilts her head, and then comes closer. She brushes a hand over the bruises on her arm, but keeps staring at their face.

“Malady do?” she asks.

Uthvir raises an eyebrow.

“You are sick?” they guess. “You have a malady?”

Her brow furrows.

“Mm,” she says, in a tone that manages to convey that she does not know what they are asking. “Princess Malady?”

Princess… _oh._

Realization dawns, along with somewhat strange truth that Aili has guessed correctly, too. Not many people anticipate a princess to throw quite so many punches as Andruil does.

“…Nevermind that,” they decide, and point to her own bruises. They slow down their speech and try and make their words more deliberate. “You alright? Hurt? Aili hurt?”

She blinks down at her arm, and then shrugs.

“Hurt? Uh… little?” she says. “No big hurt? Where… Uthvir, where…”

Her brow furrows again. They find themselves oddly mesmerized by the shift in her expressions, and how easy to read they are, even with the linguistic barrier.

“Where are your clothes?” they try.

Aili claps once, and points at them.

“Yes! Clothe!” she says. “Aili clothe. Not Uthvir clothe… the, the… fur! Aili fur!”

They swallow, as they suddenly, again, recollect the tawny pelt she had brought with her. Along with one of their gauntlets. Perhaps in some way, even intended as a sort of gift. They are surprised at how their stomach lurches, to consider that their mystery rescuer might have skinned the little trash thief in an effort to _appeal_ to them.

“I am sorry,” they say, nevertheless. Because hunting is what it is. “Princess Andruil… my lady? She took the fur.”

Aili stares at them.

For a moment they are not certain she has understood. They remain uncertain even as her expression veers distinctly towards ‘horrified’. And then she pales, just a little, and nearly loses her footing. Uthvir reaches out to steady her. Her skin is cold against their palm - worryingly so. One of her hands closes around their wrist, and grips hard enough that it almost hurts. She looks at them with huge, purple eyes.

“No,” she says.

Uthvir feels terrible all over again. And somewhat frustrated with it now, too.

“I am sorry,” they repeat. “I will compensate you for it. We can… well. Andruil should not know about you, but we can work something out. Do you a place where you are staying?”

Aili looks somewhat dazed, and shakes her head. They assume she’s answering their question; but she also seems lost in her own head.

Uthvir nearly chances asking her about her clothes again, before they finally spot a bundle of fluffy fabric near to the tree she had chosen to hide behind. They let her keep hold of them as they gently steer her towards the pile of mismatched clothing.

“Here,” they say. They pick up the jacket and the bloomers, and with only a little awkwardness, manage to help Aili back into them. It does a bit to help with her shivering; though she still seems dazed.

“Here,” they repeat, as they carefully venture an arm around her. “I have a friend in town who can put you up. We will get you somewhere warm, hm? And then work out the matter of compensating you. You _are_ the one who rescued me, aren’t you?”

Aili stares at them, and does not let go of their wrist.

“Uthvir,” she says.

She sounds very afraid. Almost beseeching. As if she has come across deathly peril, and somehow, they are the only one who might help with it.

They close a hand over top of hers, and cannot help the sympathy they feel.

“It will be alright,” they promise.

And then they send a mental apology to Squish, as they begin to lead Aili out of the forest, and towards the road. It is already late, and they are going to have to wake their old friend up for this.


End file.
